


Lost in Time: Sequel to The Fateful Reunion

by galaxyartist4



Series: Just a Future [2]
Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drugs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyartist4/pseuds/galaxyartist4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is lost and doesn't know how he got to where he is. He can't remember a lot of important things, and cant figure out why. Will he be found? This takes place about a year after The Fateful Reunion. Jim/Silver fluff and cuteness mostly, if you don't care for them as a pairing plz don't hate. If there are any spelling errors let me know. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

       

            Jim was tired and alone. It was pitch black and he could barely see the ground he was lying on. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he looked around. 

             _Oh, crap._

            He had no idea where he was. The forest around him did not look familiar at all. The chilly air sunk into Jim’s skin and made him shiver and rub his arms distractedly. 

             _It’s cold, and where the hell am I anyway?_ He thought.  _How did I get here?_

The leaves on the ground crunched as he walked forward, guided by the very faint light from the Spaceport. The Spaceport itself wasn’t visible, just a pale glow over the tops of the trees. The light was very far away.

            Jim reached down and unsheathed the knife in his boot, cursing quietly. It would take a while to find some sort of shelter. 

 

* * *

 

 

            Over two hours later, Jim pushed through some thorny bushes and into the mouth of a cave. It was completely empty, with no signs of inhabitants aside from a few bats. Exhausted, Jim slumped against the rock wall and slid to the ground. His eyes closed. 

            He woke to a searing headache. His arms and chest were riddled with tiny cuts from the thorns and from his hours of crashing around in the brush. There were also deep gashes in his chest and scrapes on his back. His knees were cut up, and the bruises all over his body ached. 

            Sunlight streamed into the cave, dappling the floor near Jim’s feet. He stood creakily and stretched, feeling his cuts sting angrily. A strange, alien bird landed outside the cave and peeped. Jim looked at it, and rubbed his eyes. He thought back to the previous day, and could barely remember anything. He couldn’t remember anything from the day before that either. He didn’t even remember what his house looked like, or what his mother’s name was. 

            He anxiously fiddled with the pendant resting between his collar bones.  _How am I gonna get home? Where is home?_ He wondered. The pendant lit up suddenly, making him jump, but the light faded after a moment. Puzzled, Jim rubbed his head and left the cave. The thorns scratched his arms as he pushed through them again.

            Deciding that he needed to figure out his bearings, he wandered around until he found a tree that looked promising. Tugging on his small pigtail, he surveyed the tree for a minute, then began to climb. Once he was close to the top, he looked out over the forest. He thought he could remember a patch of forest on a map of Montressor he had once seen, but it had been on the opposite side of the planet from where the Spaceport was visible. He sighed and began to descend, but a branch broke beneath him and he fell, landing hard on the ground. 

            “Ugh,” Jim groaned, standing gingerly. His back was complaining from the fall. He buried his face in his cut-up palms. 

            “Why can’t I remember anything?” He asked the air, feeling hopeless.

            W _ell, I know my name, so that’s comforting,_ He thought.  _I think I’m around 23 years old, but I’m not sure. I'm pretty sure that live here, on Montressor, with my mother..._ He couldn’t remember her name. Swearing, he started to pace.

            A squeak near his ear startled him. He turned to face the noise and found himself eye to eye with a small, translucent pink creature that looked like floating water with large, goggling eyes. 

            “What are you?” He asked, holding out a finger.

             ”What are you?” It chattered back at him, and when he poked it, it burst and reformed into a miniature version of him. The creature landed on his finger and stared curiously back into his face.

            He blinked, surprised, and the creature shifted back to itself and licked his cheek. 

            Suddenly he could almost hear a voice in his head saying, “ _Why, he’s a morph! I rescued the little shapeshifter on Proteus 1...”_ Jim shook his head and the memory cleared. For some reason it made him feel sad.

            “Morph?” He asked. The little blob giggled and circled his head delightedly.

            “Do you know where we are?” Jim asked it.

            “Where, where!” It burbled, and landed on his shoulder. 

            “Well, that’s not very helpful.” Jim told it, tickling its chin. “I’m hungry,” he said. Morph nodded his head and made small bubbling noises. 

            “I don’t know anything about plants though,” he muttered, looking at a clump of bushes skeptically.  _I guess food will have to wait..._ He sighed and wandered back to the cave. On his way, he found the jacket he hadn’t even realized he had lost. 

            Back inside the cave, he dug through his jacket pockets, finding all sorts of interesting things. He pulled a handful of small sweets, a tiny square of thick paper, and a dull fishhook from a hidden inside pocket. He popped a candy into his mouth and looked at the tiny square of paper. It was a miniature painting of himself with someone he couldn’t recognize.  _He looks almost like... A bear?_ Jim thought. This puzzled him, so he slipped the picture into his pants pocket and kept searching the coat. The rest of the pockets produced a small sachet of strong smelling herbs, an old fashioned lighter, a thin silver ring, three crumpled notes, a couple of small white pills, a beaten looking feather, and a pipe. 

            Jim slid the ring onto his ring finger and looked at it, confused. After a moment, he heaved a sigh and opened the crumpled notes. The first was a long shopping list of herbs. The second was from someone named Khano. It was written in thin, spidery writing, and it was about the herb mixture in the sachet. 

 _Jim,_ the note read,  _I used an older batch of rum soaked herbs for the mix, if you notice a difference, let me know. Signed, Khano_

Jim folded the paper and stowed it back in his jacket. The last note read,

             _Jimbo,_

_Your mum left for a little vacation today, so it’s just you and me in the Inn for a few days. What say you we take the skiff for a high speed run tomorrow morning? And we can have purp smoothies for breakfast, I know your mum doesn’t like them much. I’ll be out for the rest of the day, so help yourself to the dumplings and don’t let Morph cause any trouble._

_Signed, S._

Jim looked at the scrawled letter ‘S’ at the bottom of the page. The handwriting was a little shaky; Jim knew he had seen it before. He folded that note too, and put it with the others.

            Then he lifted the pipe, feeling the curve of it against his hand like an old friend. He filled and lit it, sucking thoughtfully. The smoke tasted so familiar, he could almost remember... But his mind was frustratingly blank. He puffed for a while, then lay down to sleep in the fading patch of sunlight. 

            

* * *

 

 

            A rustling crash brought Jim to wakefulness. It was pitch black again, and it seemed to be the middle of the night. He sat up, heart pounding, and made a grab for the sleepy, squeaking Morph, shushing him.

            “Oh, curse these ‘ere thorns!” A voice growled in a thick Irish brogue. Jim shrank against the cave wall, scooting himself backwards as quietly as possible. 

            Suddenly, his necklace started to glow. He started and tried to cover the light. 

            “Jimbo? I know yer in there!” The voice called. Jim didn’t reply, though the nickname struck a bell in his blank mind, and tried to hide even farther back in the cave.

            The thorny bushes outside the cave rustled and a huge, hulking form pushed through. It cursed again, rather colorfully, and stooped to enter the cave. Jim heard the mechanical whirring of gears and shuddered, frightened beyond any reason. Another voice echoed in his head, “ _Can ya hear ‘im? Those gears and gyros clickin’ and whirrin’ like the devil ‘imself!?”_ Jim gasped in shock, and the form stopped, peering in his direction. One of the figure’s eyes lit up and glowed gold in the dark, casting strange shadows across the face of the figure. Jim’s own eyes were wide in panic. Morph, however, wiggled free, peeping happily, and flew to the figure. It rubbed against the figure’s face and burbled.

            “Eh, Morphy! Is Jimbo hidin’ back there?” The figure asked. Morph turned into a tiny, bruised and cut up version of Jim, and chittered in a worried way. 

            “Th’ lad is injured?” The voice was filled with tender concern. Morph turned back to himself and flew over to Jim, who screwed up his face and closed his eyes, wishing that he was invisible. The figure drew closer, eye shining. 

            “Don’t come near me!” Jim gasped, practically shaking with the strange fear. 

            “Jimbo, what’s wrong with ye?” 

            “Who- who are you?” 

                The figure stood for a moment, speechless.

            “Well, this is a wee bit upsettin’,” the figure said, “Don’t ya move a muscle, lad.” 

            There was a few minutes of rustling and crashing and muffled curses as the figure stomped around outside. It came back into the cave, carrying an armload of wood. Dropping the sticks, the figure sniffed the air.

            “Ye’ve been smokin’ the pipe, laddy, and somehow ye’ve still forgotten t’is old spacer?”

            Jim stared at the figure and didn’t answer. It sighed, and knelt to start a fire. As light filled the cave, Jim could finally see the figure properly. 

            The figure was a huge, bear-like man.  _An Ursid,_ Jim thought, wondering how he knew. The big man’s right eye, arm, and leg were mechanical prosthetics that whirred quietly against the sound of the crackling fire. The mechanical eye shone a gentle gold. His organic eye was green and kind, and was surveying Jim cautiously.

            “I fancy I won’t be tellin’ ya me name as of yet, ye’ll remember me soon enough.” Jim rubbed his eyes as the huge man shrugged of his coat and dug through the pockets. He tossed Jim a purp and kept digging. Jim bit into the fruit and had a brief vision of a dimly lit, steamy kitchen and a broad, unresponsive back. 

_Who is he? Why do I feel like I know him?_

             The man pulled a small box from his coat and advanced on Jim. Jim backed against the wall again, but his arm scraped along the wall and he winced.

            “Now see ‘ere, lad. I am gonna fix ya up, yer right cut ta bits. Don’t ye shy away from me like t’at.” Jim shut his eyes again, and felt something cool dab at his forehead. It stung slightly, and he flinched.

            “Cut that out, ya wimp, yer gonna be jus’ fine.” The big man continued to dab at Jim’s cuts with a cotton swab. Jim stared at his face, feeling lost and confused.

            “How did you find me? Why are you doing this?” He asked. The big man chuckled.

            “Ye really don’t remember... Firstly, it was a present, wee pup, from me ta yerself, see?” He spun one of the earrings in his left ear, and it began to glow. A tiny beam of light spread from the gem that was set into the metal, and pointed toward the pendant Jim wore. 

            “It’s a fair personal compass,” he explained. “It led me right ta yer doorstep.” He looked at Jim and grinned, showing a gap in his front teeth. “It woulda worked in reverse, if ye had remembered how to work the damn thing. Secondly... Well t’at’s a bit more difficult ta explain.”

            “I can’t remember anything,” Jim admitted. “I can’t even remember how I got here.” The cyborg looked into Jim’s eyes and smiled kindly.

            “It’s alright, Jimbo, It’s alright. Now turn around and let’s see th’ scrapes on yer back.” Jim flushed a bit but he scooted around and took off his shirt. He felt the cool, careful touch of the swab on his scrapes. It stung, but the coolness was comforting against his hot skin. 

            Suddenly, he felt something warm pull in his stomach and gasped quietly. He clenched his hands and screwed up his face against the rush of detached emotions. They seemed to come from nowhere and flood into him, swamping his mind completely. His breath hitched as the feelings intensified.

            _What?! What is this? Why do I feel so giddy?_

"Jimbo? Ya doin' okay? Sorry if I'm hurtin' ye, these scrapes are an unhappy lot." The big man sounded genuinely concerned about him.

            "I'm- I'm okay, my head... is spinning."  He heard a tutting noise behind him, and the cleaning continued.

            After a few minutes, the cyborg took bandages from the box and covered the cuts on Jim’s back.

            “Alrighty, lad, turn yerself back around.” Jim obediently shifted until he was facing the big man, not looking into his face.

            “Still don’t remember me name?” Jim shook his head as the cyborg dipped a new swab into the salve and began cleaning the cuts on Jim’s forearms and chest. He touched a gentle, organic finger to a spot on Jim’s jaw.

            “Ye got this scar fallin’ from yer solar surfer around a year ago,” the man told him. Jim rubbed the spot where the warm finger had touched, watching as the cyborg bandaged his worst cuts. Jim yawned. The big man pulled Jim’s shirt haphazardly over his head and tossed a few more sticks on the dying fire. 

            “We’ll sleep here tonight, laddy. T’morrow, we can figure out why and how ya got here.” He leaned against the cave wall and waited until Jim had tugged his shirt on properly, then he slung his organic arm around Jim and pulled him against his body. Jim felt strangely safe and comforted, and fell asleep before he knew it. 


	2. Chapter 2

            A soft kiss on the top of his head brought Jim to consciousness. He blinked sleepily and yawned, stretching a bit, then turned back into the warmth next to him. He dug his fingers absently into the cushion he was lying on, kneading it almost like a cat. The cushion grunted. Jim jumped and sat up properly, shedding the large arm that had been holding him. The events of the previous night came flooding back. He stared at the big man slumped against the wall and wondered who he really was. Sunlight was streaming through the mouth of the cave, and Jim began to crawl toward it, but the huge arm came to life and pulled him back.

            “Where’re ya off to so early in th’ mornin’, Jimbo?” Jim mumbled something about the sun, then his stomach made a loud noise. He flushed.

            “Is t’at it?” The cyborg sat up, then heaved himself to his mismatched feet. “Let’s be gettin’ on, then.” He pulled Jim up, and retrieved the two coats from the other side of the cave. Jim took his own and looked at it. The big man suddenly wrapped Jim tightly in his much larger coat, and practically tossed him out of the cave. Jim landed safely past the thorn bushes. The cyborg pushed through the bushes, pulled his coat out from underneath Jim, and started to walk purposefully away. Jim got up and followed him. He heard a squeak and Morph landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his face. He laughed quietly and tickled the little shapeshifter, making it giggle. 

            “Here we are,” the big man said after a few minutes, and stopped. A skiff was anchored in a clearing in front of them.

            “Alright lad, sit yerself down, we’re gonna have a chat.” Jim plopped down and sighed heavily.

            “Yer mum will be gone for another few days,” the big man said, “So we’d best be getting ye home sometime soon.” He eyed Jim apprehensively.

            “What happened t’ ya, lad?” Jim looked up into the cyborg’s face, sunlight glinting off his prosthetics. The glimmering metal reminded Jim of something.

            “... Silver?” His voice wavered slightly. The big man’s face split into a huge, toothy smile. 

            “I knew ya would remember me soon enough,” he chuckled. 

            “I... I’m not sure what happened.” Jim rubbed his head. It had begun to ache again. 

            Morph flew up between them, squeaking urgently. They both stared as Morph turned into a handful of small white pills and fell to the ground. He turned back into himself and chittered. Silver’s face was suddenly dark. Jim covered his mouth in dawning horror.

            “Jimbo, what does t’at mean?” Silver growled.

            “I think I remember,” Jim rubbed his face, shuddering slightly. “I had a cold... I think. Mom... I still can’t remember her name...”

            “It’s Sarah,” Silver said, “But go on.”

            “She had given me pills for the cold,” Jim continued. “I was going to town, so I grabbed a few to take with me. I think I took one as I entered the market... And I remember thinking that I felt something move near my pocket but nothing was missing so I didn’t think anything of it. I think I spent the day in the market, then I took another pill as I was leaving... And I can’t remember anything else from then on.” Silver looked murderous. His cybernetic eye was glowing a dangerous scarlet.

            “Ye got drugged?” Morph burbled and turned into a green hand dropping a few white pills.

            “Did ya see their face, Morphy?” Morph shook his head sadly. Silver snarled, then seemed to calm down a bit. He stood and pulled Jim to his feet.

            “Well, ya remember some stuff, t’at’s good.” He laid a large palm on Jim’s forehead, checking for a temperature. Jim felt his face heat at the touch. He looked carefully into each of Jim’s eyes, then stood back, thinking.

            “So ya must’ve gotten on ta yer solar surfer and come all this way, but where did th’ craft end up?” He scratched his chin and untied the skiff. “Let’s go look for it.” Jim nodded and hoisted himself into the boat. Silver jumped nimbly up after him. Jim took hold of the controls and brought them up above the trees. 

            “Over there.” The big man pointed to a small column of smoke to the west.

            Wind whipped Jim’s hair as they flew forward. He grinned, and accelerated. 

            “Slow down a bit, lad, we gotta find yer craft afore we can speed off!” Silver shouted in his ear. Jim slowed down a little, and kept a steady course for the smoke.

            They found his solar surfer, mangled and broken, some ten miles from the cave. Jim kept the skiff hovering as Silver tied the remains of the board to the bottom of the boat, and thought about all the time it would take to repair the solar surfer.  _Like, FOREVER._ He moaned with exasperation. Silver shot him a vaguely worried look before he climbed back into the skiff.

            “What’s bugging ya, lad?” The cyborg asked. Jim shook his head. 

            “My mind still feels foggy.” Silver studied him closely, his brow creased. He pulled a flask from inside his coat and pushed Jim out of the pilot’s seat. 

            “Drink t’at, there’s not a lot left,” he said, pushing the flask into Jim’s hands. “I’ll take us back ta th’ Benbow.” 

            Jim took a swig of the liquid in the flask and sighed gratefully as it burned a path to his stomach, warming him. He then emptied the flask completely and handed it back to Silver. He made a face at the big man, pretending to hate the stuff.

            “What kind of swill is that?” He asked, voice filled with fake disgust. Silver’s organic eye twinkled merrily.

            “T’at’s the best grog in these ‘ere parts, from the Montressor spaceport, but you already knew t’at, didn’t ya?” Jim grinned. The alcohol had burned away some of the fog from his memory. He punched Silver lightly on the arm and Silver swerved the boat in mock surprise. Jim yawned.

            “Aye, lad, I recon yer still sleepin’ off whatever ya ingested. Have a wee nap, I’ll take us home.” The word ‘home’ made Jim smile sleepily. He reclined in the seat next to Silver, and fell asleep to the sound of him humming the tune to an old spacer song.

 

* * *

 

 

            In seemingly no time at all, Silver was shaking him awake. 

            “Up ye get, lad,” he murmured, “I’m too stiff ta carry ye up the dock.” Jim groaned and flopped haphazardly out of the skiff. He landed weirdly on the wooden planks and tripped, sprawling onto his face. A huge burly arm picked him up and slung him easily over a giant shoulder. Jim inhaled the scent of smoke, rum, and man-smell that hung about the coat and grinned into the fabric. He dug his fingers into the folds and held on. Silver plodded up the dock and into the inn, then clumsily tossed Jim down onto a couch in the sitting room, nearly falling himself. There was a long moment where Silver leaned over Jim, mechanical hand pressed into the couch next to his head, organic fingers brushing Jim’s chin. Jim felt the unbidden emotions rise up in his throat. The moment was broken as Silver straightened, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Ye’ve got some fuzz comin’ in there,” he smiled wryly. “Gods, lad, sometimes I forget how old ya are.” 

            Jim raised his arms to cover his face, willing away the heat in his cheeks. 

            “I’m not old, you big dummy.” He said in a muffled voice. Silver chuckled heartily. 

            “How does some grub sound, young’un?” He asked. Jim sat up, feeling his stomach growl from hunger.

            “Really good, actually.” Jim jumped to his feet and beat Silver to the kitchen. He washed dishes as Silver warmed food from a previous day, and they ate together. When they were finished, Silver gathered their plates.

            “T’ bed with ye, lad. I’ll clean up. T’morrow we’ll pay a visit ta Khano and ask him ‘bout those pills.” Jim smiled gratefully, feeling sleepy again. As the big man turned back to the counter, he heard Silver’s voice in his mind echoing from a distant memory _. “You’re somethin’ special, Jim.”_

            “Silver?” He called softly from the doorway. The cyborg turned to him, mechanical eye shining a soft gold.

            “I...” He paused. “...Goodnight.” Silver’s smile was sweet and kind.

            “G’night, Jimbo. I’m glad yer okay.” Jim nodded and went up the stairs to his room. He flopped onto his bed, groaning as his bruises and scrapes ached. As he lay face down in the sheets, he thought,  _There are still big gaps in my memory. What’s going on? I can’t even remember how I met Silver!_  Feeling strangely empty, he curled into a ball and fell asleep.

 

            When Jim woke the next morning, his memories had completely returned, aside from the past few days. He threw on some clothes and ran downstairs, not even bothering to put on boots or wake Morph.

            “Silver!” Jim gasped, bounding into the kitchen. Silver looked surprised and worried.

            “Somethin’ wrong?” He asked.

            “I remember everything!” Jim said joyfully. “Except the past few days before you found me. Everything! Treasure Planet! The Legacy! The past year- it’s all back.” He ran forward and hugged Silver tightly. Silver tossed aside his spatula and hugged Jim back with just as much force.

            “Jimbo, yer back to yerself. I was worried...” He squeezed. Jim returned the squeeze, then let go, rather red in the face.

            “What’s for breakfast?”

            

            Jim shoveled his food down quickly and ran back upstairs to shower and dress properly. In the shower he peeled off all his bandages and let the warm water soothe the stinging cuts. He gingerly dried off and dressed, woke Morph, and went downstairs to Silver. The big man was sorting through his first aid box.

            “Jimbo, ya gotta clean th’ worst o’ yer battle wounds afore we head out,” he said. “Ye can get yer front, I’ll check t’at scrape on yer back.” Jim struggled a bit while pulling his shirt over his head. He hissed as a cut on his chest opened.

            “Careful, lad.” Silver offered him a cotton swab and began to gently clean the abrasions on Jim’s back. Jim swiped the cotton over the deep scratches in his forearms, then slowly dabbed at his chest.

            “This is a pain,” he grumbled. He heard Silver chuckle quietly behind him. Goosebumps ran over his skin and down his spine at the sound. 

            A moment later Silver poked him between his shoulder blades on a patch of clean skin. He yelped in surprise 

            “Keep a stern eye on these here scrapes. Looks like they could get a bit infected if yer not watchful. Let ‘em air out.” 

            Jim wrestled his shirt back over his head.

            “I’ll be paying attention, don’t worry.” Jim whistled to Morph and grabbed his money pouch off the counter.

            “Come on, Silver, let’s go hitch a ride on that big carriage that goes to the market.”

            “Do you have those pills lad?” Silver asked. Jim nodded and pulled a different pouch out of his pocket and shook it playfully. Silver glared at him.

            “Take t’is more seriously, Jimbo.” 

            Jim sobered a little. 

            “Alright, alright, I’m taking it seriously.” Silver eyed him suspiciously, but seemed satisfied. 

            “One minute, lad, I’ll meet ye outside,” he said. 

             Jim waited outside the front door until Silver stomped out, looking gruff in his shabby pirate hat and coat. His cybernetic eye twinkled at Jim. 

            “We got a carriage to catch, Jimbo!” He said cheerfully, starting down the drive. Jim followed in his wake.

 

* * *

 

 

            The carriage bumped along the road with Jim and Silver hanging onto the back. Silver chatted animatedly with the owner while they rode along, and passed him a few coins when they reached the market. They walked into the market together, while Morph flitted from stall to stall. Silver stopped to talk to a tall thin humanoid selling expensive looking jewelry as Jim flipped a coin to his favorite fruit seller. Taking a purp, he looked around for Khano’s tent. The faint smell of herb smoke floated toward him on the breeze. He meandered around, following the scent, and munched on the purp. Suddenly, a huge hand grabbed his arm and wheeled him around.

            “Runnin’ off already?” Silver looked half angry, half amused. “C’mon lad, we still haven’t figured out who slipped ye that... Well, Khano mus’ be around here somewhere.” He shook Jim slightly. “I’ll be stickin’ with ye right close ‘til we get out o’ here.” He towed Jim toward Khano’s tent. 

            When they got there, Silver pushed aside the tent flap and walked inside. Jim followed him, inhaling as he went. He loved the smoky smell of herbs. 

            Khano was turned away from them, putting small pinches of dried herbs into a sachet. He was puffing on a long white pipe, humming quietly to himself.

            “Welcome,” he said, not turning from his shelves. 

            “Hey Khano,” Jim replied, investigating some plants that were hanging from the tent roof. 

            “Ah, Jim and John.” Khano grinned and turned around, holding the pipe in his pointy teeth. “What’s the business today?” He purred. Jim cleared his throat uncomfortably, and pulled the pouch out of his pocket. Silver took it from him and handed it to Khano.

            “Jimbo here had a bit o’ an... Issue with these.” Khano emptied the bag into a small wooden dish and expertly examined the pills. After a second, his brow furrowed deeply. 

            “This is not good.” He said. Silver nodded. “I sell one kind of these pills, and the other... They’re very illegal, and very, very dangerous.” Silver shot a worried look at Jim. 

            “Jimbo, tell him what happened.”

            Jim told Khano what he could remember. Khano nodded, looking grave, and picked up two of the pills. He put them into a glass vial.

            “As far as I know, Jim isn’t in any danger. He’s lucky he only took one. Two might’ve erased his entire memory, and probably could’ve killed him.” Silver let out a shaky breath and took off his hat. He muttered something under his breath and dropped his hat onto Jim’s head. Jim turned to examine a pot of strange, leafy plants by the door.

            Silver leaned on the counter and began to speak quietly and urgently to Khano. The Felinoid listened intently, nodding. Jim couldn’t really hear their words, but he thought he might’ve heard his name once or twice. He tuned out the rest of the conversation and stood near the entrance, playing with Morph. 

            After a little while, Silver stomped over to him, grinning widely. 

            “Business is finished, Jimbo. Let’s head home.” 

            “Bye, Khano,” Jim said. The Felinoid pocketed several large coins and smiled, showing his pointy teeth. 

            “Bye Jim, say hello to Sarah for me.” 

            Khano picked up his pipe and lit it as they left. Soon, clouds of pale purple smoke encircled him. He spun a coin on the counter, contemplating the shining metal, and sneered. 

            “Time to get to work.”


	3. Last Chapter

            Silver was quite cheerful on the way back to the inn. Jim got some leftovers together for lunch, and sat down to eat. Silver whistled and clattered pots together in the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast. 

            “I’ll be outside!” Jim called to him. 

            “Don’t talk to strangers!” Was the cook’s reply. Jim laughed and went out to start fixing his solar surfer.

 

* * *

 

            A day later, a letter arrived for Silver. 

            “So? What does it say?” Jim asked, curious. Silver smiled mysteriously as he read.

            “Jus’ everything I needed to know. Th’ supplier and th’ one who got ye were caught and taken care of.” Jim shuddered slightly; Silver’s smile had turned mean. 

            “Ye don’t need ta worry ‘bout them anymore.” 

            Jim had almost forgotten that Silver used to be a notorious pirate. He probably had all sorts of connections in the underground and in the galactic black market.  _That would explain why Khano recognized that particular herb mix when I first brought it to him,_ Jim thought.

            “We never went on t’at skiff ride I promised ye,” Silver said to him. “I’ve got an idea.” He went into the kitchen and came back with a large basket. “Come on, lad.” 

            “Where’s Morph?” Jim asked, pulling the door shut behind him. 

            “Morphy was snoozin’ in the sittin’ room. He’ll be fine wit’out us.”

            Jim tripped on an uneven part of the dock. Silver caught the back of his shirt and tossed him into the skiff. 

            “You’re always there to catch me, aren’t you?” Jim laughed, rubbing his backside. Silver pulled himself up into the boat and laughed too.

            “Eh, I figure I always will be.” 

             _I hope so,_ Jim thought, flushing a bit and taking the basket. It was heavy. He sat on the passenger side and put the basket between his feet. Silver dropped into the pilot seat and started the skiff. It roared into life and they sped off.

            “Where are we going, anyway?” Jim called over the rush of wind.

            “Yer just gonna have ta find out,” was his answer. He snorted and sat back, enjoying the speed.

            

* * *

 

            About half an hour later, Silver brought them down to a small meadow near a set of cliffs and anchored the boat to a medium sized rock. He brought the basket over to Jim. They sat down and Silver pulled out food and a large stoppered jug. 

            “It’s been forever since I went on a picnic,” Jim mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich. “I think the last time I went was with my mom when I was seven.” 

            Silver chuckled. 

            “I haven’t been on a one since I was but a wee lad meself,” he said, “But t’at was a long time ago. Ah, well.” Silver took a swig from the jug and sighed deeply. He offered it to Jim. 

            “I feel old.” Jim complained, and took a big mouthful. The jug was full of strong rum. “Silver, this is pretty powerful,” he rasped, almost coughing. Silver grinned.

            “I feel old too, Jimbo... And I like it strong.” Jim took another gulp and handed the jug back to him, already feeling a little lightheaded. 

            “Who’s gonna drive back?” Jim inquired, watching Silver down some more rum. 

            “I thought I’d take a quick nap before we leave.” Silver admitted, almost sheepishly. Jim grinned at him, and took the jug back.

            Soon the jug was empty. Jim slowly packed up the basket and stuck the stopper back into the bottle. His head was spinning. Silver was lying sprawled on his back, staring into the sky. He patted the ground to his left.

            “C’mere laddy, stop moving ‘round so fast.” Jim hiccupped and dropped down beside him, closing his eyes.

            “I’m glad you found me,” Jim said, hiccupping again. 

            “Me too, Jim. I was so scared, ye wouldn’t believe it. You’d think t’at a seasoned spacer like me would have a stronger stomach, but...” Silver covered his face with his organic arm. 

            “Jimbo, I thought I had really lost ye this time. It was Treasure Planet all o’er again. Ya jus’... Disappeared.” Jim was quiet, remembering how he had hung by his fingertips above boiling lava, an inch from death. He shivered.

            Silver rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his organic elbow, watching Jim. 

            “I t’ink I actually like yer chin fuzz, lad.” Jim cracked an eye open. Silver was grinning in an embarrassed way. The booze made Jim feel warm all the way to his toes. He smiled cheekily up at Silver.

            “I like your fuzz too, old man.” 

            “Ye mean all of it? I’m fair covered in fuzz.” Silver chuckled quietly. Jim reddened. 

            “Yeah, all of it. The metal stuff too.”

            “But t’at’s not fuzzy, Jimbo,” Silver said, a slight crease in his forehead. Jim chortled and poked Silver’s nose.

            “You’re cut off, old man; you’ve had enough to drink. I think I have too.”

            “But there’s none left anyway.” Silver grumbled. Jim hiccupped again.

            “Yeah, I guess not, but you missed my point.”

            “What was it?” The cyborg asked. Jim snorted.

            “I like all of you, dummy. Every bit.” Silver looked at him for a moment, apparently searching for signs of sarcasm. Jim stared back earnestly. 

            “I like ye too, lad, from the fuzz on yer chin t’ that tattoo on yer hip that ya think I haven’t noticed.” Jim gaped drunkenly at him. “I’m not clueless, ye see. I’ve got eyes in me head.” Silver told him.

            “You do?” Jim asked, feigning stupidity. Silver blinked slowly.

            “I love ye, Jimbo.” He said suddenly. Blushing, Jim reached up to brush his fingertips hesitantly over the big man’s cheek.

            “I love you too, Silver. You know that already. I can't believe I ever forgot.” He whispered.

            Silver leaned down to carefully and gently press his lips to Jim’s.

            “Let’s sleep off t’at booze so we can head home.” He said huskily. Jim grinned and let Silver pull him closer.

            “I think I’d rather stay here forever.” He murmured, digging his fingers into the folds of the big man’s shirt. He felt Silver chuckle.

            “Forever is a long time, Jimbo, I think ye’ll be wantin’ a nice soft bed soon enough, what wit’ t’is hard ground and all...” Jim yawned, then smiled.

            “For now... This is perfect.”

 

            

 

 


End file.
